


A different start

by Mnemosphere



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, First Meetings, Infidelity, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-01-17 15:28:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12368655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mnemosphere/pseuds/Mnemosphere
Summary: A re-imagining of the first meeting of Nick and Adalind with an Adalind less compliant with her mother's schemes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This may or may not be continued in a series so fair warning. All mistakes are my own.

She comes around the corner, a blonde with a leggy, slender build encased in a black sheath dress with a clutch purse and heels. She’s wearing a beige wool coat, her hair rolling down over the front. Her face is obscured by shadow. 

He’s not in uniform but standing in front of a police car with his badge and gun visible is a dead give away that he is in law enforcement. He can see Hank thumbing through the sodas in the convenience store, but he knows what an approach looks like, knows when he is about to be accosted with a specific intent in mind. 

Yet she is too well-dressed, better than a woman should be in this neighborhood, for him to classify her as a threat and so he waits and watches. She doesn’t waver.

She gets to within a few feet of him and stops, giving him a clear once over. He straightens, “Something I can do for you Miss?”

He sees a flicker of a smile pass over her mouth and she turns, the streetlight finally catching her full in the face.

He freezes and blurts out, “You!”

Her smile widens into a grin and an eyebrow quirks up. A very familiar, very blonde eyebrow. 

The Hexenbiest looks back at him before saying contemptuously, “The name’s Adalind Schade, Mr. Burkhardt. Or rather Detective Burkhardt I suppose.”

He stiffens as her cool gaze drops to his waist and lingers over his shield. She sways forward, edging closer in a prowl but still nothing he could classify as overtly threatening. 

“Stay where you are.”

She stops and smirks, “So, the rumors are true. Portland has a new Grimm. And not just any Grimm but a new baby Grimm with a badge and a gun of his own.”

He glances back over to Hank but Hank appears fuzzy, the air distorted. He glances back at her and asks sharply, “What did you do?”

She rolls her eyes, “It’s just a time distortion field.” She pulls a necklace out from where it had slipped under her dress’ neckline and twirls it around a finger. It’s an antique looking amulet, intricate and shining silver with a faint blue light emitting from it. Sounding bored, she says, “It’s got a proximity feature. All you have to do is walk past out about five feet and you’re out, time resumes at its normal pace.” She lets the amulet drop, “I just wanted to talk undisturbed for a moment.” 

He looks at her incredulously, “And this is how you choose to do it?”  
She glances around, checking his expression before quirking another little smile, conceding, “Maybe this is a bit much.” She shrugs it off, “Hexenbiest, remember?”

He just gives her a flat look back, “So since you went to the trouble, what do you want?”

She takes a step closer and he tenses. She sways forward and he holds himself steady, feeling the air charge. Gooseflesh pops up over his skin and his heart rate picks up but it doesn’t feel like fear. She tilts her head to the side and the shadows recede, painting her brow golden. He sees the delicate tips of her nostrils flare as though catching a scent.

“I wanted to take your measure.” He blinks and she settles back but does not move further away. She continues to study him, “I’ve never met a Grimm before.” Her gaze travels down, “You’re not exactly what I pictured.”

He rears back, “That’s it? You’re not even going to throw in some threats for fun?”

She gives a one shouldered shrug and her lip twitches to the side, “The night is young.” She pauses, “And you know as well as I do that some things are better left unsaid. Besides I’m sure there will be many opportunities in the future for such courtesies.” And she smiles again, sharp and intensely brief, the light barely catching the gleam of her teeth.

He is baffled. “That’s it?”

“For now.”

“Is this like a truce?”

“We’d have to be fighting to need to call a truce in the first place. I wanted to preempt that.”

“I know what you are.”

“And?”

“You’re a Hexenbiest! Why should I trust anything you say?”

She gives him an incredulous look, “I’m here now aren’t I? Have I raised even a finger to you? Out of the two of us, you’re the one named for death. You do know that, right? Hexenbiests may be known for manipulating and deceiving others, but your kind is the one that’s known for murdering.”

He is taken aback at that. 

Her head quirks to the side, “You think being a Grimm just gives you super powers? You get to finally see the monsters for what they really are now? You don’t think it comes at a price?” She drops a glance down his front, frankly assessing and letting him know she finds him wanting. “You think this a one way street?” 

She steps back and her face ripples but mostly stays human looking. It happens in the blink of the eye, there and gone before he really has time to process it. 

He rears back in case she decides to attack him, but she just looks at him. “You ever wonder what we see when we’re looking back at you? You can’t imagine it’s a good look you’ve got going on with the way you’re leaving Eisbibers running for the hills like that.”

“So why even approach? Why take the risk?”

She shrugs again, “I was curious and you’re new. I figured this was as good an opportunity as any.” 

“Opportunity?”

She rolls her eyes, “To try something different.” Seeing he still doesn’t understand, she continues, “The Wesen community is an old one. And by old I mean set in its ways, resistant to change, you know, occasionally forgetful of what century its in.” She gives him another once over, “And considering that the last time we met you were checking me out, I thought there was a pretty decent chance you wouldn’t attack first.”

He flusters and starts to deny it, “I wasn-“

But she cuts him off, “Save it, baby Grimm.”

Annoyed he says, “My name’s Nick.”

An eyebrow quirks and he can see he has surprised her somehow. “Well, then,” she says and levels him with a challenging look. She extends a hand and looks at him expectantly, “If we’re going to be on a first name basis, my name is Adalind.”

Warily he examines her back before reluctantly meeting her in the middle. He is a little surprised to feel her warm skin against his, like the illusion would break and he would be left grasping a skeletal hand as he erupted in boils or something horrible. They shake and he concludes, “This is almost the strangest meeting I have ever had.”

She snorts but doesn’t disagree, merely disengaging and backing away.

“See ya around Nick,” she says and shoots a wave over her shoulder. The air ripples as she retreats and he gets a sudden rush of sound as the pace of normal life swoops back in to fill the void. He has to blink a few times to adjust. He starts to call after her, to say what he doesn’t know but he stops and changes his mind. 

To his left, he hears, “Hey Nick, you okay?” and Nick blinks again to see his partner standing next to him, holding out a steaming cup of coffee.

He manages to mumble something back that must sound halfway coherent because Hank lets it slide and they crawl back into the vehicle. But for the rest of the night, Nick has trouble keeping focused as his mind draws back to turn her words over again in his head.

He will see her again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eh, so there might be a bit more to this snippet.

She parks her car at the curb and sits in it for a moment staring at the steering wheel. She can’t believe she’s here. She gets out of the car and marches to the curb, feeling the wards warp and stretch around her before finally releasing her halfway up the sidewalk. Her mother answers the door before she even gets all the way up the stairs. 

There is a tightness to her mother’s face that looks more like strain and less like Botox. It is clear to anyone that looks at her that Catherine was once a beautiful woman. She has aged gracefully but the fullness of youth has left her face, with her cheekbones stark, eyes still luminous and mouth pinched. She could probably still find a wealthy older man to marry but Catherine has always like them young and beautiful, which usually means without much money. 

Catherine looks exasperated but also relieved to see her. The relief is more carefully hidden but the exasperation is prominent. 

“I thought you were coming by right after work?” It figures her mom would start by putting her on the defensive.

Adalind is still wearing clothes from the office and has come straight from court. She gestures down at herself. “I did. I just finished up for the day but the arraignment took longer than anticipated.”

A tiny frown appears between Catherine’s eyebrows. Catherine has rarely worked during her life, preferring to use her wiles and Hexenbiest powers to get money from others. She’d always considered normal 9 to 5 work beneath her, and she had never understood why Adalind had spent so much time in school only to work as hard as she does. Her mother had always told her she was too pretty for that kind of work.

Her mother gestures her inside and she follows her into the sitting room, where her mother pours her tea. Catherine eyes her critically over the first cup. 

“I heard you’ve been spending more time with Sean lately.”

Adalind shrugs, “Here and there. His position in the Portland PD makes him a little hard to avoid. I thought I might as well be cordial.”

“Well, he told me that you’ve been doing well.” But Adalind can see there is more she wants to say. Adalind doesn’t make it easy for her, letting the silence carry. 

Catherine purses her lips before finally saying, “He actually mentioned that he could use your help with something. He thought it might be a chance for you to help establish yourself in this city.” And with him. The suggestion was buried but present in the suggestion. Sean liked to pretend because he was Royalty that he got some kind of a fealty from the local Wesen population. It wasn’t entirely off base but she also knew what was going unsaid here.

Adalind fussed with her tea to give herself some space. “Mom, I’m not really looking to …” and she gestured outwards while making a moue of distaste, “make a mark on the city here. I just paid back my student loans and was more thinking about buying a house right now.”

Catherine looked to the side in what Adalind could read as a repressed eye roll. “Well, honey, this would be perfect then. It will really help you to establish yourself. And you know that Sean has always had a certain fondness for you. He would be an excellent ally.” 

The ‘and possibly more’ is implied. She had had an utterly embarrassing crush on Sean when she was a teenager and her mother was dating him. The implication was an uncomfortable one in more than one way.

Adalind must have taken too longer to respond because she can see her mom tense. Adalind looks at her, surprised and she can see the moment Catherine realizes she gave herself away. 

“Mom... what aren’t you telling me?”

Catherine flinches and the tension breaks in a wave. Catherine looks down and Adalind can see her gathering herself. Adalind watches unnerved.

“Adalind, it’s- “ she sighs, “This is so hard to say.” Catherine gestures around her, “The money has run out. It ran out—a year ago.” She meets Adalind’s incredulous gaze. “Oh stop, honey. You know how it is. I kept thinking things would change but my finances just got out of control.”

“What does Sean have to do with this?”

“He said he would pay off my debts.” 

“How much do you owe?”

Catherine had the grace to look a little sheepish, “About $50,000 now.”

“Mom!”

“What? I told you I was never the best at keeping up with money.”

“That is a lot of money.”

Catherine shrugged it off and Adalind looks around, noting the new pieces of furniture, the new ring on her mother’s finger and the thinks about when was the last time she knew Catherine to do anything related to work. It was really a wonder she wasn’t worse off.

Adalind starts again, “So what exactly is he going to give you the money for?”

Catherine relaxes, “Well, there’s a new Grimm in town and he’s a cop. Sean says he’s one of his detectives and his aunt is dying so the Grimm thing is getting passed on but from what Sean can tell he has no idea about the Wesen community. His aunt, the current Grimm, just showed up the other day and apparently got this whole thing started.” Catherine waves this away, “Anyway, Sean wants help in making sure that the new Grimm is on the right side of things. Sean thinks he could be useful to him but doesn’t want to give his aunt a chance to turn him against us.”

Adalind blinked, “And what does that mean for me?”

“You see, Sean wants his aunt dead and you’re going to help me make this happen, sweetie.”

Adalind stares at her and finally sets the teacup down.

In the end, Adalind doesn’t agree to do anything but she willing to go along with this scheme for a little while, just to see where it goes.

“I need you to do this for me.”

Adalind frowns, glancing over her mother again, “I know, mom.”

Catherine sighs looking exasperated, “Just remember what I told you.”

 

***

She stops when she sees him, the sight of his dark head at the bedside somehow catching her off guard. She can hear the faint rumble of his voice, hear that he’s speaking to the unresponsive woman in the bed. The tone is sweet as he holds her hand. She thinks again of the vial in her pocket but she reminds herself that she never actually agreed to do anything. 

She hesitates at the door but it is enough to get his attention, head whipping up as he sees her come into view. His eyes widen and he glances down, suspicion crystalizing as he goes to stand.

“You!,” he says and she hears the accusation in his tone.

She schools her features, “Down boy.” She gestures, “Word travels fast. I guess this explains why you’re so new to it all?”

He ignores her words, “What are you doing here?”

She shrugs and tries not to give ground, “I had to see it for myself. You know your aunt was pretty creepy? It’s weird seeing her like this.”

“Excuse me?”

Adalind gestures back at the other Grimm, “She used to follow me around, tailing me from place to place. You try and tell me that wouldn’t bother you. I increased my disability insurance because of her.” 

He looks incredulous, “Are you serious?”

She glares at him and gives an exasperated gesture, “Who makes up something like that?”

“Are you out for revenge?”

“No,” she says and realizes it is true. She blinks and points at her satchel, “I have a client who’s admitted and that needed to sign some paperwork. But then I heard that Lady Death was in the ICU, so…” and she trails off, gesturing at the surrounding space, the implication clear: here I am.

He continues to glare but some of the hostility softens. 

She takes another look over the lady Grimm and the smell finally hits her. She wrinkles her nose, “It doesn’t smell like it’s going to be much longer.”

His head whips around and she almost bites her own tongue. She hadn’t actually meant to say that aloud.

“You can… tell?”

Adalind hesitates and looking around asks, “Cancer?” She looks at the woman’s head, bald and only partially covered by her head wrap. She can never remember having seen the woman without it and it clicks. This is either long standing or a recurrence but either way it isn’t good. Means this whole scenario shouldn’t be a surprise and yet- there is no one else in the room. No other family present.

She shrugs in response to his question. “I can tell it’s bad. It’s not like I can give you an exact timeline or anything.” He glances back down at his aunt.

He nods and doesn’t say anything for a moment, looking as though he is weighing her words. He glances back up at her finally before saying, “The doctors don’t think she has much time left. We’re waiting for a bed with hospice. I just want her to be comfortable in the time she has left.”

Suddenly woman stirs and her eyes open, a clear green rimmed with red. There is a stillness about her, which speaks to a power she has even in her infirmity. She looks right at Adalind. “Have you come to kill me, witch?”

Startled, Nick looks between them. For a moment Adalind doesn’t know what to say. Awkwardly she replies, “No.”

The woman looks at her and then her nephew and seems to accept this. “What do you want with him?”

“I don’t want anything from him.”

The woman looks at her for a moment longer and slowly her eyes rotate to look at Nick. This time she asks him, “Tell me what she is.”

He glances back at Adalind before saying with confidence, “She’s a Hexenbiest.”

The woman smiles in approval, “Be careful with her. Hexenbiests can’t help their own nature. They’re hard to trust, harder to kill.”

Adalind glares, “Hey, you were the one following me lady.”

The woman raises an eyebrow, “You’re here aren’t you? If I had wanted you dead you would be dead already. I was checking up on you.”

“Most people would call that stalking.”

The woman only stares back at her with eyes as hard as glass, “I haven’t completely decided about you yet. You’re young so there’s hope for you. Your mother on the other hand-“

“Don’t talk to me about my mother. I’m not her.”

“That is the most heartfelt thing you’ve said yet.”

They regard each other as Nick regards them. Finally Adalind looks back at Nick and backs away. “See you later, Burkhart. Consider my curiosity sated.” She glances back at Marie and nods but says nothing more before peeling away from the door and leaving.


	3. Chapter 3

“Is it done?”

“No, it isn’t ‘done’.”

“Why not?”

“He was there. Burkhardt.”

He glares at her as though she were personally responsible for this. “We’ll just have to try again.”

Yet the next morning, when Renard calls to tell her to hire assassins to go after Burkhardt’s aunt, she refuses. She makes it out to be that she thinks Renard can do his own dirty work. Later, she learns that her mother had taken over that little chore but that it had left Sean displeased with her. Personally she can’t bring herself to care over what he thinks about her anymore, but it is a nuisance because Sean still has more power and influence than she does. He is not someone she wants as an enemy. So she plays nice and pretends like she cares, but the reality is, she can’t forget how Nick had looked at that frail woman in the bed. It bothers her and she doesn’t know why. 

When she hears tell that Lady Death has passed she’s unsurprised and, to be honest, slightly impressed at the way she went out. Now that was a death.

She finds herself wondering what Burkhart is doing and how he’s handling the change of circumstance. But it seems she does not have to wait long because it is only a week later that she sees him again.

***

Their first official meeting is at the precinct. Nick had seen her name on the case, listed as one of the other two attorneys. He requests information on her and her other co-worker that was assigned to the case. The folder that lands on his desk is short and unremarkable. She has no priors, with scarcely a speeding ticket on her record. Her credentials are impressive and rather more than he had been expecting. Yet when he had heard there had been another attack, he had tensed, internally bracing as the body was as yet unidentified. It was not until he had seen that woman on the ground- brown hair and not blonde- that he had felt something inside unwrench. 

It’s different to think about victims when they are someone you know- even if you don’t know them well. And seeing her again, at the precinct this time, had been strange. Their meetings before he could count on one hand and yet each had been remarkable in its own way. They had stood apart from the rest of his life, and even, in a way, apart from his new reality.

She had looked at him as if she didn’t know him. He had played along. But the awareness he had of her did not fade. 

“Don’t tell me you’d feel bad about the death of just another Hexenbiest.”

He flinches at that, “I wouldn’t wish you dead.”

She considers him behind crossed arms and drawls out, “How sweet.”

He rolls his eyes, “It’s always different when it’s someone you know.”

She raises an eyebrow.

He mimics her raised brow then adds, “I thought we were on a first name basis now?”

She bites her lip on a smile and sees the curve of his mouth as he turns away with an edge of triumph. His gaze finally settles, this time out the window and she can’t help but take in an admiring look at the long clean lines of him as he braces against the sill. She sees him frown at something and then the bees are upon them.

They get separated trying to escape the swarm and she faces off against the Queen Mellifer on her own for a while until he finds them and defends her. He doesn’t hesitate and doesn’t let the queen sway him against her, instead knocking her out and taking her into custody. 

Later, on the street outside as the red and blue lights flash and the sun sets behind the row of buildings, they talk.

She keeps checking the skies for another swarm, but there is no sign of one and the queen’s followers have been restricted to watching from beyond the police boundary as Melissa is taken away.

He sidles up to her as she sips from a cup of coffee that is just this side of palatable. 

“We should talk about your statement, but now is probably not the best time,” he says and glances around indicating the people surrounding them. Ah, yes, they have to get their stories straight. He glances once towards his partner as well. “Say you’re tired and just want to go home. Do you have somewhere you can stay tonight so you are not alone?” he asks and glances towards the barricade where the queen’s followers have started to disperse but still linger, watching.

She sighs, “Yes, I can stay with my mother for the next few nights.”

He nods but she can see his expression shift. He hands her a card, “Call me when you get there. It would be best if you spend as little time as possible not alone for the next few days.”

She nods, “Your captain already called her. She’s on her way to come and pick me up now.”

“Call me anyway when you’re secure for the night and we can arrange a time to meet, probably early in the morning. You can delay making a statement for now but you should be in by tomorrow afternoon. I can tell you more about what the queen said in hers by then as well.” 

He pulls out his phone and checks her contact information. She is a little surprised he had saved it from before.

They agree to meet in the morning, exact time and place TBD. She had called the office and she is taking a sick day tomorrow so the details do not matter to her as long as it is somewhere away from her mother. She catches Sean watching them and acts studiously casual when he stops by to check on her after. He seems satisfied and leaves after only a few moments.

His partner, Hanks talks to her again and she reiterates what Burkhardt had told her, and agrees to come by in the morning to give her statement. Shortly thereafter her mother shows up, somehow managing to look both annoyed and interested. She is escorted through the perimeter after her ID is verified, eyeing the line of mellifers still clustered near Melissa’s car. She saunters over to Adalind, looking her up and down, before finally saying, “You look fine. “

Adalind drains the cup of coffee and tosses it in the trash, “Hey, mom, good to see you.”

Catherine rolls her eyes, “Well, obviously I would be worried if you were hurt, but you’re not.” She peers over at the cop car the other mellifers are huddled around, “At least some good came of this.” Adalind rubs the line between her eyebrows.

“Let me get my things.”

She waves down one of the uniformed officers who opens her truck and lets Adalind retrieve her things. Burkhardt notices and waves as she walks off, still talking to one of the techs. He looks over towards her mother and it is not lost on Catherine. Burkhardt glances back at her and she swears he raises an eyebrow.

Adalind wheels her suitcase back to join her mother. Catherine is noticeably tenser, “That’s the Grimm?” She studies him at a distance, careful not to look like she is staring. She glances at Renard, “And he helped you against the Mellifer queen?” she asks looking back at Adalind.

Adalind shrugs but doesn’t really want to talk about it anymore. Catherine luckily doesn’t seem to expect more, only saying, “Interesting,” as they leave.


	4. Chapter 4

She takes a taxi in the morning to the café. It is a small, homey artisan coffeehouse right around the corner from a strip of trendy stores. On a weekday at 9:30am, the morning rush is just petering out. 

He is there already, his dark hair an inky stain in the corner of the shop. He has a book open in front of him with a cup of coffee in his hand.

She grabs a cup at the counter and slides into the empty spot across from him.

He starts, blue eyes shooting up to hers. He glances at his watch and looks briefly embarrassed to be caught off guard. She takes a sip of coffee and eyes the book he has in front of him.

She raises an eyebrow, “That’s not exactly light reading you have there.” She leans forward, tilting her head to get a better view of the page, eyebrow only arching higher. “That’s a Grimm book!” she says reaching for it.

He tenses and she sees his fingers twitch but he doesn’t actually stop her from looking at it. She pulls it sideways to better see the old pages. There’s a drawing of a Fuchsbau on the page with some old fashioned looking handwritten script. 

“I’m kind of surprised you’re just carrying this around with you.”

He shrugs, pulling back the book and closing it. “Lots of catching up to do.” She considers that for a moment and thinks that if he really is so new then this is perhaps not surprising. Still a strange thought to think he spent so many years ignorant of his own heritage.

Curious, she asks, “How’s it been so far?” 

He shrugs again, “Complicated but—“ and he gestures, “not bad. Just feel like I’ve had a veil lifted away from my eyes.”

She sits back. “Well, you have actually.” She takes a sip of her coffee, “I’ve always known what I was or what I would be. But the-“ and she lifts her hand miming a twist, popping a wrinkle out of his collar. It is subtle, not something a casual observer would notice, but it feels like a touch. He startles slightly, jerking back and glancing down. He touches where the phantom touch was and looks at her warily. She ignores the distrust she sees there and continues to look back at him calmly. “The Powers didn’t really come in until I was a teenager.”

He is leaning back now, eyes narrowed, the relative relaxation present earlier gone now. “So that’s true then too.”

She gives a little shrug, “I don’t know what your book says about my kind. I only know what I am.” Adalind lets the statement hang, hands crossed in front of her on the table.

He stares back at her and some of the tension eases out as she continues to just sit there. He glances around the café and then back at her.

“Fair enough,” he says and then shifts, looking her dead in the eye. “Melissa Wincroft had a lot to say about your firm.”

Adalind leans back and rolls her eyes, biting out, “I’m sure she did.”

He looks her over for a second, “It is a primarily Wesen firm?”

She shrugs and clarifies, “Exclusively wesen, although they don’t put a limit on type of Wesen so that creates its own friction.” She hesitates, “There weren’t any Mellifers on staff though and this case had been Serena’s initially. I got pulled in once it started getting ready to go to trial and because I was one of the other Hexenbiests on staff. The senior partners thought it would provide an extra element of motivation for me and Serena was a friend.”

She takes another sip of her coffee. “It had been her project at the beginning. It seems Serena’s mother had been killed by a Mellifer queen.” She mulls that over for a second, “That’s how these things start. One grudge begetting another and always along the most predictable of lines.”

“Like Grimm against Hexenbiest?” he challenges.

They lock gazes and the tension ratchets up again. “Yes, exactly.” His gaze is intense and so blue in the morning light.

His nostrils flare and he relaxes, “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t know too much about those old grudges then, huh?” he says with a quirk of an eyebrow.

Her eyes narrow as she takes that in. There is something almost boyish in the smile, teasing but said with a confidence that is undeniable. And she can’t ignore what the statement implies. 

“I guess so,” she responds softly, taking him in. 

He looks her over again and something in her face amuses him. He smiles, pleased with himself. He continues, “Let’s talk about your statement then.”

She takes another sip of her coffee and finds an involuntary smile come over her features as well. 

They hash out the events and between the two of them, lawyer to cop, come up with a plan pretty quickly that includes the most salient details and excludes the most fantastic.

She drums her fingers along the tabletop, finishing off her coffee. They gather their things and walk out together. 

He turns to her, “How did you get here?” He hesitates for a moment, “Did your mother drop you off?”

She huffs a laugh and shoots him a look, “Definitely not. I took a cab. I need to go back to the office and get my car then I can meet you at the precinct.”

He nods, “Do you want a lift?”

She looks at him surprised.

He clarifies, “To the office. We probably shouldn’t be seen going in the station together.”

She agrees out of curiosity. He drives a Land Cruiser, stocked with supplies for the outdoors: tarps and flashlights, water and tools, all neatly tucked into the door panels and stacked in the back. It is a practical vehicle and fits its owner. He is not the most talkative guy so they spend most of the ride in a silence that is oddly companionable. She spends most of it sneaking glances at him. 

In any case, it is not a long drive. They are getting close to being back at the office when he checks in again on her, asking about her safety, but really she thinks trying to ask about her mother.

“You said you were staying with your mother?” 

She sighs. “For now but she will probably want me out of her hair in the next few days and to be honest I will be happy to go back to my own place.”

“It doesn’t sound like you have the best relationship,” he says without judgment. 

She side eyes him and shifts, recrossing her legs. She notices that his eyes skim along her when she does, lingering just a touch too long on her legs. The black ankle length leggings she wore today are tight and well-fitting and capped off with black patent leather heels that gleam dully under the light from the overcast sky.

She shrugs with a tilt of her head, “We don’t." Really it is not surprising he would be curious given the number of times her mother has come up. It might even be the entire reason he offered to give her a lift in the first place. He shoots her a questioning look that doesn’t demand an answer but she gives him one anyway. “She’s more old school, if you know what I mean.” And then if that is not clear enough, she adds, “She doesn’t know about you, or rather- she doesn’t know I have been talking to you.”

He frowns and starts to say something but she cuts him off, “Trust me, it’s better that way.” The frown doesn’t disappear but he nods. She gestures to a bus stop up ahead. “You can pull over there. My office building is just around the corner.”

Shortly thereafter, she makes her way into the station. She spies him at his desk standing with his arms crossed and back to her. His partner is on the phone but they are talking back and forth over it. 

Adalind heads towards them and then as though a string were pulled, she sees him stop and turn to stare right at her. It is slightly unnerving. His partner glances over then and waves her over. They get her settled into the back but Nick lets Hank do most of the talking. There is a complimentary way that Hank treats her that is familiar but she can tell there is no real intent behind it. Yet it sets Nick on edge so she plays it up a little, casually flirting back. The game is one well known to Hank and herself but she can see that Nick doesn’t like it. When Hank steps out for a moment, she calls him on it.

“Why so tense, Detective?”

“What are you playing at?” he asks and she sees him look to the door where Hank disappeared just a moment before.

She raises an eyebrow, “Your partner is quite the flirt.”

His nostrils flare and he pushes back from the table. “Well, he’s been married four times already.”

That surprises a laugh out of her, “I can see why.” But the statement only riles him up more. She smiles at him, “Relax, you’re still my favorite. Besides it doesn’t mean anything.” 

And interestingly he does relax even as she spies a spot of pink around his collar. Yet when Hank comes back in she relents and drops the flirting. The rest of it is taken care of in short order. She spies Sean at the edges of her vision more than once but there is never a moment where he can pull her aside to talk discreetly. She leaves the precinct without ever actually having spoken to Sean, but she knows she will be getting a call from him later.

***

It is later when Nick and Hank are wrapping up the case that Hank says something that unsettles him.

They had been talking about Adalind’s statement and he had said something about Hank flirting with her during the interview.

But Hank had just given him an incredulous look and laughed at him, “Man, it’s a good thing you’ve already got Juliette because you don’t know what you are talking about.” 

Nick gives him an incredulous look, “What?”

Hank shakes his head and raises an eyebrow, “She might have been talking to me but that whole thing was directed at you.”

He shakes his head, “Didn’t look that way to me.”

But Hank had only tsked at him, “You may be good at reading suspects but women? Man, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

Nick had frowned at him but Hank was already moving on. However, it had unsettled him enough that he had tried to put it out of his mind. Yet, this resolve didn’t last long.


	5. Chapter 5

Her phone rings. She’s at work, wrapping up a case at the end of the day. She answers on reflex and hears his voice.

His voice is halting, a hesitation, like this is not something he is sure he should be doing. She is immediately intrigued. “Do you know anything about ziegevolk?”  


She can feel her eyebrow shoot up, “What are you doing messing around with ziegevolk?” she asks, dropping her voice on the last. She glances around but most of the people are gone for the day. She gets up anyway and goes to shut the door to her office.

“It’s for a case.”

“What happened?”

He hesitates again and she can hear the low sounds of what must be his office in the background. Maybe this isn’t something he is supposed to tell her. His voice drops, “A woman was found dead near a hotel where the last person to see her alive is a ziegevolk.”

“A woman, huh? Did she have sex recently?”

She can hear his intake of breath and the open line hangs in between them.

He finally says, “Can I meet you somewhere? Are you home?”

She bites her lip, “No, I’m still at the office, but you don’t want to meet me here.” Far too many Wesen work for her firm. She thinks and finally says. “I can meet you somewhere else though.” 

And 45 minutes later she is walking into a bar near her apartment to find him standing outside, hands in his pockets. She took her hair down and traded her briefcase for a clutch but she is still dressed for work, figuring the skirt and heels would work just as well. It’s more of a wine bar than a sportsbar so it is easy to grab a table and talk. She orders a pinot noir and he orders a beer. 

She glances at his beer then his belt and notices that his gun is gone. “Off duty, then?”

He rubs his face and says, “Mostly,” with a significant glance at her.

She gives him a quick once over and takes the hint, “So Ziegevolk, huh? What do you want to know?” 

He starts to tell her about his case. She can see him war with trying not to delve too deeply into the details of the case with trying to give her information that might be useful. He ends with a question, wondering if she thought the ziegevolk might be involved. It is not quite what she expected. He doesn’t assume the closest Wesen is the perp but he is suspicious of him. The cop and the Grimm.

She shrugs and makes a frown of distaste, “They tend to be squirrely or plump average looking guys who are somehow always surrounded by women. But they’re more the lovers than fighters type. They tend to have this effect, “ and here she gestures, “that comes primarily through touch, that makes them irresistible,” she shrugs, “at least to human women.”

“It wouldn’t have an effect on you?”

She gives him a faintly insulted look, “Please. He’d be luck I didn’t hex him if he tried.”

“Does he have an effect on men or other Wesen?”

“He shouldn’t- although I’ve never met a gay one so maybe in that case. A human male might find himself thinking about him more fondly, but the effects should be pretty minimal unless the exposure was prolonged or particularly focused or whathaveyou.” She tilts her head considering, “Or unless he’s a toad eater maybe.”

“How could you tell if someone was affected?”

She pauses, “Infatuation in the victim, often against any other warnings or normal self-preservation. The victim would find the ziegevolk magnetic, charming, riveting like a spell had fallen over them.”

She pauses and looks down, uncomfortable. And she remembers being young, so young and stupid and Sean-

Adalind bites her lip and reaches for her glass, fighting back the pangs of remembered embarrassment and longing, still intense despite the stretch of years. When she glances back up he is looking at her and it is… considering.

She glares. He blinks, backing off and resettling against the counter. He takes another swig of beer and waves the barkeep over, side eyeing her.

The barkeep assumes they are on a date and she can see the moment the implication hits Nick. He glances over her and she realizes that he had been purely professional before and had just become aware that they are in fact in a meet up spot surrounded by other people out after work on a Thursday night. They’re roughly the same age, both young and attractive and it is just the two of them. But he ignores it, paying for her drink, he says as a thanks. 

She gives him a flirtatious smile sliding forward, feeling back on familiar ground. His gaze flicks down and lands for the briefest of moments over the stripe of skin revealed by her blouse. He looks away and she can see the muscles in his jaw tense. 

Adalind edges forward just a touch more and gets a whiff of his scent, sharp and warm, delightfully masculine. She says, “Well, this was interesting. Never thought I’d have a Grimm come to me for advice.”

A flicker of a frown flashes across his brow. He doesn’t back away but she can see suddenly that he is getting on edge the closer she gets to him. She stops.

Nick looks back at her wary, and says, “Thanks for your help.” It sounds a little too formal all of a sudden and Adalind remembers then that this is an active murder investigation with a young woman dead. She’s never been overly sentimental but that is still something that lends a bit of gravitas to the situation. He continues, “You didn’t have to agree to meet me.” 

She blinks and realizes that they are both still trying to figure the other one out. But something she is coming to realize about this man is that he is sharper than he looks and more considerate than she would have given him credit for. 

She softens, shrugging, “Thanks for the wine.” 

They exit the shop and look around. He glances around the darkened streets and asks, “Are you okay to get home?”

It tugs a smile from the corner of her mouth, “I live around the corner.” 

He nods but doesn’t look satisfied with the answer. She guesses, “I’m a big girl, Nick. I can take care of myself.” He nods and the knowledge of what she is flashes between them. She quirks an eyebrow and turns on her heel leaving him under the streetlight.

 

***

 

She had thought that was end of it but she gets another call from him less than 24 hours later.

It’s the middle of the day and she’s at work. She answers the phone and hears her name. “Adalind, you said something about frogs?”

She blinks, “Nick?”

He grunts and continues sounding hurried, “What did you mean?”

The ziegevolk. “It was toads.” She shuts the door to her office. “You think he’s a toad eater?”

“He eats them?! Maybe. My partner and I went by his bed and breakfast and he had these frogs or toads all over the place in an elaborate garden. He got really upset when my partner stepped on one. What did you mean?”

Her eyebrows are in her hairline. “Toad-eaters. Ziegevolk used to sometimes eat toads to make themselves even more irresistible. But it is frowned on nowadays. I didn’t think any of them did it anymore because it used to mean that they’re breeders, like with a harem.” She frowns disgusted and then a thought occurs to her. “And you said your partner stepped on one of the toads?”

“Yeah, Hank didn’t even see it there were so many hopping underfoot.”

She looks around her office, a dark suspicion creeping over her, “I doubt he let it go to waste.” She clears her throat. “He’ll probably go hunting tonight then while the effect is more potent.”

He pauses and she can hear the sounds of cars passing in the background before he asks, “What are you doing tonight?”


	6. Chapter 6

He is surprised she came. He had invited her at a time when he was too single-minded on the case to really appreciate the possible implications. 

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he had thought them a mistake. All he had been considering at the time was that she had helped him thus far and was resistant to the ziegevolk.

So when he sees the shine of her blonde hair, he is surprised. He had been moments away from calling Monroe to see if he could help when she had rounded the corner. She is dressed in dark clothes: dark pants with high boots and a leather jacket zipped up to the collar. Her hair is a blonde halo of curls.

She is looking around curiously at the line of bars across the street, tracking his gaze. He points, “He lives around the corner from here, walked in from his place. He just walked in to the Blue Moon maybe 10 minutes ago.”

“What’s he look like?”

Nick shrugs, “5’8’’, short dark hair, wide eyes, thin mouth, wearing a blue blazer and shiny pointed shoes.”

She quirks an eyebrow, “Were you waiting on me then?”

He’s confused for a moment before he catches her meaning, “I can’t go in, he’ll recognize me and get suspicious.”

She smiles and it has an edge. “No he won’t.”

“No, I just saw him earlier today.”

Adalind tilts her head to the side, “Think you can trust me?”

He stops suddenly wary and doubting, the question a little too stark. Yet here they are, here she is on a darkened street corner helping when she doesn’t have to and not really asking for much in return. He’s heard Hexenbiests are treacherous but so far there hasn’t been a problem. He hedges, “What are you thinking?”

She takes in his discomfort and grins, “Nothing too crazy.” She reaches in her pocket and pulls out a sprig of some kind of herb tied with blue string. She shows it to him. “I can put a Notice-Me-Not charm on you. It’ll make his eyes graze right over you.”

Adalind holds it out to him and he takes it, looking it over. There is a tiny dark stone tied to the bundle. “What do I do with it?”

“Stick it in your pocket and hold still.” 

Watching her, he slides it in his inner jacket pocket. Her expression twitches and he sees the ripple of her features as the Hexenbiest peaks out. He freezes. Slowly, she reaches out and touches his chest. He looks at her hand, looks at the withered flesh and feels a sting in his jaw a tingle that makes him want to move but he resists. She whispers a word and it feels like a wind sweeps over him, surprisingly warm. He blinks and she is looking normal again and considering. 

She gestures with her chin to his pocket. “Toss it when you’re done. This is a single-use kind of thing.”

He looks down at himself but doesn’t feel any different. She smirks and he glares. “A little more warning would have been nice. It better not do anything else.”

“Simmer down, baby Grimm. It’s harmless.”

He glares some more but checks his watch, swearing under his breath. Time is slipping away. “Come on, it’s getting late.”

She gestures after him, “This is your show.”

They enter the bar and it is packed. He almost gets run down a few times, people looking around after bumping into him like they can’t even see him. He looks at Adalind and she shrugs. He gestures to indicate the ziegevolk and she studies him interestedly as he interacts with a young woman. He can see her nose twitch and once again there is that itch in his jaw but just a ripple passes over her features. Her eyebrow crooks up.

“Wait here.”

She makes her way through the crowd to the front of the bar, sidling up right next to the guy. She gets the attention of the barkeep and orders two beers and just happens to get jostled into the ziegevolk. He turns around with a smile to see Adalind and a look of surprised pleasure flickers over his face. He leans toward her and says something, reaching out to shake her hand, the other woman he was talking to forgotten for the moment. 

Nick tenses, watching, but when their skin touches, the air shimmers and both woge for a moment. He shoots backwards like he has been stung and Adalind glares as he stares back fearfully. The barkeep returns at that moment and drops off the beers she had ordered. The ziegevolk stammers something out, gesturing at the beers and Adalind finally leans back. She picks up the beer but keeps up the glare before turning and disappearing back into the crowd. He stares after her, looking relieved but like he is afraid she will come back. 

Nick gets jostled again and looses sight of her for a moment. The ziegevolk looks back over the crowd again, but his gaze passes right over Nick. He heads out after her but it is hard going as people just do not get out of his way. Nick doesn’t see her until he feels a hand wrap around his wrist, pulling him backwards. 

It’s Adalind and she has snagged a table against the wall, looking pleased with herself. 

“What happened?”

She smirks. “Slimy little creep tried to use his charm on me. I think he almost pissed himself. It didn’t work of course, “ she says and gives him a look that says I-told-you-so. “But he is definitely on the toad. That poor human doesn’t stand a chance.”

They turn as one to look back at the bar and he is talking to the first woman again and she is riveted on his every word.

He looks back at Adalind and sees the disgust mixed with pity on her face.

She catches him looking and slides the other beer over to him. He eyes it, saying, “I’m on the clock.”

She shrugs, “Suit yourself.”

“You’re sure though? No doubt at all in your mind that he’s the one?”

“Yes. He’s on the hunt looking for victims. I’d be surprised if this woman doesn’t turn up pregnant in a few months.”

He glances back over at the man, suddenly angry. He sees Capra getting up and the woman looking eager; they are leaving together. Nick fishes his phone out of his pocket to dial Hank but he doesn’t pick up. 

Nick goes to leave and then stops, turning to Adalind. “Thanks for all you help but I can take it from here. You should go home.”

She gives him an opaque look in response but waves him off. He darts out of the bar and keeps trying to get in touch with Hank but to no avail. The GPS trace on him goes back to Capra’s house. Eventually he finds Hank in the ziegevolk’s gas room with the women held captive. They have to chase Capra down using the GPS trace they placed on his car earlier and they run him down at a local park. 

They are processing the scene and Capra is getting wheeled into an ambulance when he gets an unexpected call.

It’s Adalind, and she asks without preamble, “How did it go? Did you catch him?”

He hesitates, “Yeah, he was just placed into custody.”

She makes a humming sound. “Where are you?”

“Why?” he asks and she laughs, the sound dark and rich.

“So suspicious and after I helped you catch him.” He looks around but cannot see a reason why not to tell her. H gives her the address but then asks why again. “Do you have a lot of female officers on the force? Or at least any present there?”

He looks around and spies Capra getting loaded onto a stretcher and one of the paramedics is female. He darts over and waves her off but he sees how her eyes linger on Capra. 

His phone rings again in his hand and he answers on reflex. It’s Adalind.

“Nick, think you can get him alone for a moment?”

“Maybe at the hospital but he is about to be wheeled off now. Why are you asking?”

Now she hesitates, “I made something that will help neutralize his pheromones but I need about 5 minutes alone with him.”

He stops, “You made, what, a potion? To neutralize him?”

“I did yes. I can’t say I’ve ever tested this out before but it is supposed to work.”

He considers for a moment and then gives her the name of the hospital. He meets here there and she shows him a vial but says she needs something from Capra to finish the potion. Adalind grabs a white coat from a hook outside what looks like a physician communal area and they bluster their way through the ED to find Capra as he is being transferred out of the scanner and left to wait in the hallway, now cuffed to the gurney.

Nick and Adalind exchange a look and find an open room, taking him off guard as they wheel him in and slide the door shut. 

Capra looks back and forth between them, incredulous. Adalind smirks and pulls the vial out of her pocket. Capra starts to yell but Adalind waves her hand and the sound is abruptly cut off. She glances over at him to gauge his reaction. He checks the door but it doesn’t look like anyone is coming.

He turns to her, “What do you need?”

She bends over and pulls a knife out of her boot and slashes Billy across the finger. He tries to pull away but she won’t let him. She hands Nick the vial, “Hold this under his hand,” she says and squeezes a trickle of blood into the vial. She takes the vial back and abruptly woges into her Hexenbiest form, snarling a word in what sounds like Latin. Nick watches as the solution turns red and then blue, the colors swirling and mixing. She turns back just as suddenly and flings the potion in the ziebevolk’s face and he flinches and writhes. Nick leans forward alarmed, but he is physically unhurt. The potion slowly seeps into his skin and disappears. Adalind leans forward and takes a sniff. 

“That should do it,” she says, looking satisfied.

They wheel him back out and leave him where they found him, sobbing into his hands. She drops the white coat and they walk out of the hospital together. It is morning, the sun overly bright. She looks normal again, all traces of her inner nature gone, her hair blonde and shining bright. 

She closes her eyes against the glare and smiles but it is not directed at him.

He watches for a moment, pondering. He wants to ask her why she did it but he thinks that perhaps she might be insulted by the question. 

She opens her eyes abruptly, catching him looking. She smirks, “Yes?”

He shifts, “Just trying to figure you out.”

She glances back at the hospital and shrugs, looking him over. Some of the archness leaves her features, “Let’s just say he rubbed me the wrong way.”

He raises an eyebrow in acknowledgement and waits but she doesn’t say anything more. He flashes back on the night he first asked her about the ziegevolk, about the strange vulnerability he saw there and thinks there is more to it but the reasons must be personal. Finally he nods and turns, gesturing with his head that they should keep walking. 

“Well, thank you again.” It goes unsaid that this wasn’t something she had to do. Or that he is still wondering why she did it. “I owe you one,” he says and then continues, “If you ever find yourself needing something and I can help, let me know.”

She nods and he can see he has her back on familiar ground. She gives a little smile with a quirk of her head, the expression slightly mischievous. “I’ll keep that in mind, baby Grimm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been tossing around where to go next with this. I have some assorted scenes from upcoming episodes (like a snippet from The Three Bad Wolves) but the next big one I think will be Organ Grinder. Game Ogre is tempting from a thematic standpoint but I don't really see a good opening. Anyway, TBD but I wouldn't mind batting a few of these ideas around.


	7. Chapter 7

Her phone rings. It’s Sean. She almost doesn’t answer it. She has barely spoken to him since Nick’s aunt died, so most of what she knows is second hand through her mother, who is still complaining that she wasn’t much help in taking care of his aunt. Still, the woman had died shortly thereafter and she apparently didn’t poison Nick too much against Wesen given his ongoing interactions with her.

She finally answers on the fourth ring, figuring she might as well get this over with. “Sean, what an unexpected surprise.”

“Adalind,” he says and the response is flat, a touch of annoyance in his voice. Maybe she should have just answered him sooner. “I was expecting a report from you about Melissa Wincroft.”

She clenches her teeth briefly before forcing herself to relax so he doesn’t hear it in her voice. “I already told my mother everything. I was assuming she was asking for you.” 

“She told me but I want more details. You’re sure the Grimm saw you in your Hexenbiest form?”  
”Without a doubt.”

“I saw you speaking with him and Hank after when you came in for your statement.”

“Yes, I noticed.” She replies and then waits him out.

“That interaction seemed surprisingly cordial for him to realize that you are a Hexenbiest.”

She sighs and says pointedly, “It probably helped that I didn’t actually have anything to do with his aunt’s death.”

Typically he ignores her barb, instead saying, “I want you to get close to him.”

“Oh?,” she says and pretends to be surprised.

“If he knows you’re a Hexenbiest and doesn’t consider you a threat, you can be of use to me.”

She flashes back on their most recent encounter and knows this would be the perfect time to offer this information up. She could make it sound like she was doing this for him, that she had been anticipating this assignment, but she doesn’t. Because the truth is, considerations regarding Sean had had nothing to do with it and also, because for whatever reason, she doesn’t want Sean to know. She bites her lip, asking, “What did you have in mind?”

 

***

 

He sends her a packet of information on the Grimm. Looks like he has had a PI following Nick occasionally. There’s personal information on his family, his house, his favorite coffee place (perhaps not surprisingly the one where he asked to meet her before). Included are also his school pictures and a redacted record of his time as a cop. And there are pictures of him and a woman named Juliette, who is his girlfriend. She lingers over pictures of them together, his arm around her shoulders, holding hands as they walk down the street. She’s pretty, redheaded, tall and statuesque. She is a veterinarian and completely human. Adalind turns back to the pictures of them together and wonders if the woman knows about Nick’s new situation.

Adalind shuts the folder at last and pulls up her schedule. Sean had also sent her the list of court appearances Nick has over the next month. There’s one coming up in the next few days. 

 

***

He’s walking out of the courtroom when he sees her again, talking to someone down the hall. He’s guessing that she’s on the clock, given the location and her dress. She laughs at something and tosses her hair, her blonde hair shimmering.

She turns as he approaches and their eyes meet. Her expression flickers with surprise at seeing him. He slows and she turns briefly to her colleague, saying something before she starts to come towards him.

Her gaze flickers to his badge on display on his chest, “Here for work?”

He nods and indicates her outfit with a tilt of his head, “Guessing you’re here for the same reason,” he states.

She shrugs, “I was just finishing up and about to head to the office.” She gestures towards the way out. “Do you want to get a coffee?”

He glances over at her, a little surprised, but agrees. They pass back through security on their way through to the front and make their way down the steps. There is a coffee stand outside the courthouse to the side of the steps. She asks in general terms about why he was there and he answers in the same nonspecific way. Nick looks for an opportunity to mention their most recent activities but there are too many people around. They get coffee and he leads them across the street to the small park in front of the courthouse. It gets them a short distance removed from the steady stream of people, many of whom they each recognize.

She takes a sip of her coffee and glances over at him.

“What happened with Billy Capra?”

Nick shrugs, “He remains in police custody and actually seems to be somewhat of an annoyance to his fellow inmates. He has also had a few different female guards at this point, none of whom have tried to help him escape.”

She smiles, “Good. Sounds like it worked then.”

“Yeah, I think so,” he says sounding satisfied. “Thanks again for that.”

She nods and then gives him a considering look, “Out with it already.”

It surprises him a little, and he asks, “Am I really so obvious?” 

She gives him an arch smile, “More like predictable.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Oh really? In what way?”  
She skims a considering look over him, “You’re very single minded when you get the bone between your teeth. This is also probably also the first time you have even made an attempt at small talk. I figured you must have something on your mind that you wanted to ask me.”

He blinks. She has surprised him. He has to admit, he is not used to being the one who is read so easily. Perhaps he does get a bit too focused at times. But she doesn’t sound disapproving, merely as though she is stating an observation. 

Finally he lets out a puff of air, “You might be right about that.” 

She smirks with just a flash of canine visible. She raises an eyebrow, “So what is it?”

“You’re not the only Wesen I’ve spoken with about my cases,” he starts and sees her perk up in an unconscious gesture of interest. He answers her question before she voices it, “His name is Monroe and he’s a Blutbod.”

“You’re hanging out with a Bludbod now too?” 

“My life has taken a turn for the strange lately.” He gives her a look that seems to encompass her into that grouping that leaves her unsettled. “Besides, he’s a vegetarian.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Even those of us with the best control still struggle against our own natures from time to time.” 

He nods and remembers when Monroe has involuntarily wogued and the things that have set him off. He glances at her again, “What is the Hexenbiest equivalent?”  


She bites her lip, hesitating but answers, “For the Blutboden, it would be the urge to hunt, fight, chase, the pack mentality. Hexenbiests don’t do any of those things but we do have a darker nature, one that most tend to already know by reputation. The anger, jealousy, occasional fits of violence. Think of it like a really, really bad teenage rebellion phase only with, like, powers and an actual desire to maim.” She makes a moue and raises an eyebrow, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I’m guessing there is not really a Grimm equivalent? Notice any increase in homicidal urges?”

He straightens and clears his throat, “Not that I’ve noticed.”

She smirks, “Although you’d probably be considered pretty rebellious for your kind.”

“Oh?” he asks.

And she smiles then, a little softer now, a little teasing, and tilts her head just a fraction. “You know, given the company you keep.” She is obviously referring to herself as well. 

He considers her and thinks of the many different things he could say. But he has never been the best with words, “I have no complaints.” 

She gives a subtle jerk back, arms crossing and fingers curling. Ruffled feathers for sure. He steps forward, arms coming up and hands spread, hastening to add, “That’s not-“ but he stops and lets out a breath. She looks back at him mouth parted on a no doubt scathing retort, only held in abeyance of what he might do next. He winces and tries to speak again. “What I mean to say is that you, uh, haven’t led me astray yet and I appreciate it?” 

“Yet,” she says and it comes out somewhere between a threat and a promise. 

He winces again, “Why do I get the feeling that you’re going to make me pay for that later?” 

She smiles finally, a little quirk of her lips before her posture relaxes and a more genuine smile breaks out at last. “Let’s just say that it’s good you don’t have to rely on your words for your income.”

He continues to look sheepish as she skims her eyes back over him. He thinks he sees something like an amused little gleam in her eye. He gets a niggling suspicion that perhaps the entire episode was all artifice. But then she meets his gaze and something shifts in her expression, becoming more playful but with an edge of challenge. It piques something inside him, a stirring in his gut and a spike in his heart rate. They have an intense moment of eye contact where the feeling swells before she deliberately drops her gaze. Neither of them say anything for a moment. 

He eventually just decides to divert back to his original question. He explains the scenario with Hap, Angelina and Monroe in general terms. He’s wondering who else in the Wesen community might be involved just based on the traditional feud lines.

She leans back against the bench, sipping at her coffee again. “That’s a tall order with a Bludbad. Basically all Wesen that are traditionally prey animals. Bludbaden are considered something like an apex predator in this community. The big, bad wolf and all.”

He sighs, annoyed, “Death, mayhem and all these ancient grudges that go back over who ate whom in year whatever the-“ and he cuts himself off with a gesture of frustration. “Don’t you get sick of it? Between you and Monroe I have heard more about-“ and he cuts himself off.

She rolls her eyes, “I know these things are new to you but they are a fact of life to those of us born to it. You can no more change these things than you can change what you are.” But then she stops and looks away. “Sorry, that was something my Grandmother used to say.”

He frowns and starts to respond but stops when she continues.

“And you know-“ she bites her lip finally looking back at him, “It might not be such a disadvantage to have come into this the way you did. You are the only Grimm I’ve ever heard of who would even think of, well- let’s just say that you wouldn’t be here now talking to me. And you wouldn’t know a Bludbad and you definitely wouldn’t be trying to help one solve the murder of another Bludbad.”

She bites her lip.

“Is this what you meant about the rebellious side?”

She smiles then, small and ever so slightly relieved, “Yes, exactly.”

They sit quietly for a moment next to each other. She’s sitting with her legs crossed and taps out a few beats with her toe, twisting the foot from side to side. She sighs, “If I had to guess though, I’d say to look at the Willahara, the Bauerschwein, and the Seelengut. Willahara are a rabbit like Wesen known for their fertility properties. Bauerschwein are pig-like Wesen. I’m sure you’ve heard of the story of the Three Little Pigs and the Big Bad Wolf, only let’s just say that in real life, the story usually ends with a pig for dinner. And the Seelengut are a sheep-like Wesen. I’d be shocked if they could kill someone by themselves but they also have a lot of antagonism against the Bludbad for obvious reasons.”

He nods and writes this down, mentally calculating how soon he can get back to the trailer to look these up. His phone rings and it is for work. He makes his excuses and leaves. She waves him off.


	8. Chapter 8

He sees her here and there, sometimes it is in passing at work and sometimes it is Wesen related. He had somehow never noticed how often they must have intersected. 

But it isn’t until he gets a new case with a boy washed up in the river, drained of blood that he really reaches out to her again.

He is talking to Monroe about the case when the idea of body parts being used as ingredients comes up.

He asks, “Is this something that a Hexenbiest would know about?”

“Well, yeah. A lot of these ingredients can be taken by themselves but sometimes they’re used for making zaubertranke.”

He nods, thinking. “Meaning Hexenbiest potions?” 

Nick nods and Monroe makes an appreciative sound, “Look who’s been doing his reading. Yeah, they probably would,” says Monroe, “But what are you asking about Hexenbiests for?”

“I met one.”

“What? When?”

“A few weeks ago. Around the same time I met you.”

“And you’re just mentioning this now?”

Nick shrugs looking away, “It hasn’t really come up. And she’s helped me out before.”

Monroe raises his eyebrows, “She helped you?! Are you defining ‘helping’ as in didn’t attack you when you met or something?” 

Monroe is incredulous, but Nick tries to brush off the question, “No, like with another case.”

But for whatever reason this only serves to rile him up more, “You brought her into a case?! You mean like you do with me?”

Nick looks back at him blankly, “Well, yeah.” Seeing that this isn’t satisfying him, Nick continues with a question, “Why is this so surprising?”

Monroe makes a skeptical face, “I mean, Hexenbiests aren’t exactly known for their altruism. I’ve never known one to do something unless they have a reason for it. And usually that doesn’t end well for anyone else involved, if you know what I mean.”

Nick frowns, “Have you known any before?”

Monroe shrugs, “Only in passing. They can be, uh, a handful. They are not the kind of Wesen you want to piss off. Kind of hot though, you know, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

Nick just shoots him a look, “Look, she has helped me before. She might be able to help me get a sample. And she would probably at least tell me if she’s heard something about this group. Unless you want to help me get a sample?”

Monroe stops, “Well, now that you mention it…”

“Uh huh,” Nick says and Monroe shrugs, spreading his hands.

“I mean it wouldn’t hurt just to see what she says,” he adds.

 

***

He calls her at the end of the day. She ducks out of a conversation to answer the phone but has him wait on the line until she makes it back to her office to continue the call. 

He briefly explains the situation. She is intrigued. There are not many shops in the area where one can obtain these ingredients and that particular shopkeeper has certainly not been very forthcoming with his ingredients list. Probably afraid she would steal some of the higher end ingredients. She doesn’t think her mother pays for anything there anyway.

He mentions the Bludbad he’s been working with and she’s a little intrigued. There is a Monroe in the local Wesen community that is a Bludbad, but no one she knows knows him. Nick has some idea of meeting first and then going to this shop to get a sample to test before he raids the place. It sounds a little convoluted but she agrees just so she can meet Monroe.

However, getting to Monroe’s requires she drive right past the apothecary. To save herself the trouble she just stops there en route.

She has been to this shop periodically in the past to buy supplies. It is as she remembers, full of wood and glass with dark corners and the need for a deep clean. Bundles of dried herbs cover the walls. She shopkeeper is a Fuchsbau and he is cagey at best. He stiffens as soon as he recognizes her, posture going tense. His voice is deliberately obsequious when he asks if he can help her. She lingers over his wares, deciding to restock on a few items whose quality seems reasonable, leaving the items a the front register so he can bag each one carefully. She finally returns to the front. 

Her tone is testing with just the slightest edge, “You seem to be missing a particular ingredient that I need. But then again, I don’t think this is something you would leave out at the front of your shop. I don’t suppose you have any Herzfleisch in the back?”

If possible he tenses even more before deliberately relaxing. His gaze flickers over her face, assessing before he nods and disappears to the back with a quick mumble. He returns with a small, narrow vial of a powdered dark red substance. She gestures him over and hands over the vial with a trace of reluctance. She woges briefly and he flinches. But she only takes a deep whiff, lightly shaking the vial. It is a very dry powder, good quality, no hint of rancidity but with a strong smell of iron and surprisingly genuine. Human heart. Not an easy ingredient to find indeed. He quotes her a high price, which she ignores, haggling him down to something reasonable. She hands over her credit card at last and he seems relieved. She smiles in amusement. It figures a Fuchsbau would finally relax when she hands over payment. It also tells her the price they settled on was probably a more fair than not. 

She swans out of the shop at last and heads to the suburbs, finally pulling to a stop in front of a smallish house on the outskirts of a park. She sees Nick’s Land Rover parked out front. She slides the vial into her pocket and walks up to the stoop. The smell of Bludbad scent is heavy here. She knocks.

The Bludbad who answers is tall, wearing a sweater someone’s grandfather would favor with the glasses to match, and rather overtly suspicious. She hears Nick talking further into the house, coming towards them but for a moment they square off against each other. There is something almost guarded in his posture and she thinks it has more to do with merely defending his territory. She narrows her eyes, considers before letting a flicker of a woge cross her features. Monroe does likewise and if anything he gets more tense. Bludbad are pretty widely considered one of the stronger of the predatory Wesen but as she is well aware, Hexenbiests are another thing altogether. 

She smirks amused and leans forward, wondering what it would take for this Weider Bludbad to finally reach his limits. Finally, their stare off is interrupted as Nick comes around the corner. His sudden entrance serves to break the tension. She leans back as Nick tries to introduce them. They do not shake hands but the Bludbad stands back to finally let her pass. 

As she looks around at the house she can’t keep her comments to herself. The place is littered with clocks of all shapes and sizes but the most comment worthy pieces are the ones that look like they come directly from the Old Country. She smirks again and testing asks him in German if the needlepoint was something he made himself or if it was a gift from his grandmother.

His hackles immediately rise. It seems he also understands German then. Nick glances back and forth between them. 

“I’ll have you know that I made it myself,” he says with some dignity. She only smirks wider and drops a glance around his living room to encompass the décor before once more landing on his sweater.

She hums non-committedly. 

She herself is a stark contrast, dressed in a trim and fitted black skirt suit with a cream colored silk blouse and patent leather glossy black shoes. Her hair is straight and immaculate, brushed to a high gleam. 

Nick glances between them, “What is going on?”

She finally glances back at him and some of the edge comes out of her smile. She gives a one shouldered shrug and glances back to Monroe. “Most of us from the European stock speak German at least a little.”

Monroe frowns at this, edging around her towards what she assumes is the kitchen. She doesn’t miss the annoyed glance he shoots Nick as he walks by. But then Monroe adds, “I’m second generation but there are some segments of our community where it is considered mandatory to know the mother tongue. Miss Hexenbiest is apparently one of those.” His tone clearly conveys that he does not think favorably about this segment.

Nick gives her an exasperated look. “Really?” he asks. She shrugs raising an eyebrow. Did he expect anything else?

She follows him into the kitchen and leans back against the counter. 

Monroe shoots her a look, “So you’re familiar with this shop? You’ve been before?”

“I’ve been there before. Not my favorite place to go for supplies but sometimes needs must. I’ve never known this place to be particularly well stocked before if you know what I mean, but then these are not really ingredient I use often.”

Nick frowns a little at the often but she sees him decide to let it go. But it is Monroe’s expression, the quick guilty intake that makes her pause.

She crosses her arms and says “But I think you’ve been there before too.”

“What? No!”

She laughs, “What, the Bludbad needs a little, say- Gallenblase?”

He pauses for just a second tool long and she smirks, “Ding ding!”

“I have not! But like- friends of mine have. I’ve heard about it before.”

“Oh?”

Nick has been watching the interaction, confused once more. She shoots him an arched look and clues him in. “Gallenblase is an, uh, let’s say, aphrodisiac for the Bludbaden.” Nick’s eyebrows shoot up and he turns to Monroe incredulous. She finishes, “Gallenblase is otherwise known as human gallbladder.”

Nick looks back at Monroe, “Oh really? And you’ve used this before?”

Monroe flusters before finally hedging, “Maybe like once when I was younger. Young and experimenting.”

She covers her mouth on a smirk, pleased the attention has been diverted so neatly from herself. They bicker back and forth for a bit before circling back to the matter at hand. She mostly just watches their interactions. It is plain that they are more comfortable with each than mere recent acquaintances. If nothing else, Nick felt comfortable enough with Monroe to invite her over to his house and he also seems at least superficially comfortable in his house. There is an edginess to their interactions that speaks to a new friendship but it is plain she is the less well-known party here.

She finally interrupts them by pulling the vial of Herzfleisch out of her pocket and placing it on the countertop of the center island with a click of glass to granite. The vial is maybe 2 inches tall, the size of an index finger and clear with a black screw on top. It is unlabeled. The dark red powder looks almost black under the lighting. It catches their attention immediately.

Nick speaks first, “What is that?”

She looks at Monroe and says, “Herzfleisch.”

Monroe exchanges a glance with Nick before Monroe answers the unasked question, “Heart flesh.” He gives it a dark look.

Nick’s eyebrows are raised, “Human?” But interestingly he glances at the Bludbad as though to confirm.

Monroe reaches for the vial, “Usually that’s what that means.” He unscrews the top and takes a sniff, triggering a small woge. A mix of emotions flicker over his features. He screws the lid back on, setting it back on the counter. “Smells human.”

They exchange a look before glancing back at her. “It is. I had to pass the shop on the way here. I figured this was quicker.”

There is still a small hesitation, and realizing what it must be, she pulls her wallet out of her purse and gets out the receipt. It is date and time stamped and clearly has a line that says “Special: HZ”. She hands it to Nick. He looks it over before looking at Monroe and pointing out the relevant parts. He hands it back and she tucks it away again.

Curiosity satisfied and task completed, she glances at her watch. She nods at the vial. “You can keep that. Submit it to your lab. Tell me what you find.”

She turns to leave back out the front but then hesitates. She points at the vial and says the thing that strikes her as the most odd about it, “This one,” she starts and then clarifies for Nick, “meaning the human this was harvested from, was young and healthy.” She lets that sink in a minute before continuing, “These kinds of ingredients are not impossible to get. There are always new specimens from pathology for organs, especially non-essential ones like the gallbladder, being removed during surgery.” She looks at Monroe and he shifts with lingering guilt, “Otherwise, there is always the time of cremation where these items can be harvested. Usually it just means you need a supplier with the right connections at the human hospitals or mortuaries. But they are usually not quite so young or fresh.”

He looks back at her and she sees something like surprise before the seriousness of the situation registers again. He finally nods and with that acknowledgement, she turns and leaves.


	9. Chapter 9

He should perhaps not be surprised at the results he gets from the apothecary, but he’s seen these kids. The vial Adalind had handed him was nothing other than pure human heart, dried and powdered.

While Hank follows up on a lead of his own, Nick takes off. Adalind answers on the second ring. Her voice changes quickly when she hears his tone of voice. “You were right, it was-“ and his voice drops, “human heart.” She hums and from the background sounds he assumes she is somewhere public. He adds, “I’ve gotta find the supplier. I’m going over to that shop now to see if he will say anything more.”

That seems to surprise her, “What, now?”

“Yeah, now before another kid turns up dead.”

He hears her shuffling around before she says, “Wait for me.”

He agrees reluctant but he figures she might have a better sense of what to ask. He doesn’t know how she manages to get out when she does, but she turns up within minutes of his arrival.

She is walking quickly and says, “What exactly is the plan?”

But he just shoots her an incredulous look and strides through the front door. The shopkeeper turns as Nick comes in and they exchange opening remarks before the door jingles again and she walks in behind him. She immediately has the man’s attention. 

“Hello again,” she says walking behind him. Her features ripple and the shopkeeper tenses, wogeing in turn. She laughs and settles into position over Nick’s shoulder, turning to look at him. The Fuchsbau follows her line of sight to Nick and the look he gives them becomes one of outright fear. He bolts and Nick gives chase down into the bowels of his shop. 

He catches him, slamming him up against the stone wall. He hears the click of Adalind’s heels behind him, hears her muttering something disparaging. The place is only lit by the shaft of light from upstairs but clouds of dust are still swirling from their earlier tussle. She approaches from behind him again and he sees the Fuchsbau look incredulously between them, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. 

“What the hell! A Grimm and a Hexenbiest!”

“That vial you gave her,” he says and jerks his head back to indicate Adalind, “That was human heart. I want to know where you got it.”

He tries to finagle out of it, denying responsibility, trying to recuse himself. 

Adalind calls to him from where she had wandered off, “Nick you’ll want to see this.” He handcuffs the shopkeeper to a post and goes to find her standing in front of a tall shelf. Bits of old stonework litter the edge of the room as spiders scurry overhead. Tiny little multicolored bottles full of powders line the entire shelving unit. Each section is labeled, most of it in German.

He watches her eye the shelves of ingredients. She steps forward and a manicured finger trails along the harsh grain of the wood, flicking upwards briefly to graze over the neatly handwritten labels on the bottles. There are a few that she pauses over. She lists them for him, “Liver, gallbladder, lungs, brain…” and then she trails off. Her finger hovers over the label but she doesn’t name it. Adalind reaches out and grasps the bottle and unscrews the lid. A dark red powder lines the canister. She inhales and her features shimmer. Her expression shutters and she closes the canister again.

He must shift or move or something but he doesn’t remember it because she glances over at him suddenly as though drawn. He asks, “What is that one?”

She shakes her head, a denial. “Very rare and hard to get and definitely human.” She looks back at the Fuchsbau. “Or at least this is supposed to be very hard to get nowadays. I have never seen this in person before.” She sounds perturbed by this. There is at least 6 ounces of it lined up. 

Adalind turns back to confront the Fuchsbau and he whitens. He starts to babble, “This is, uh, you know only one part in a supply chain. I just distribute the product, I don’t have anything to do with what turns up.”

She sneers, “Do you even know what this is?” and her voice rises, turning indignant. 

“Gebarmutter, just like it says.”

She rolls her eyes, “It’s _Zuerstblut_ der Gebarmutter. There’s a difference. Tell me- does he know about this?”

But the Fuchsbau only frowns and Nick can tell he has no idea to whom she is referring.

She huffs before stalking off and he thinks that he really needs to brush up on his German. He follows her, leaving the Fuchsbau cuffed behind him, “Adalind- what?”

But she cuts him off, shaking her head. “It means first blood of the uterus.” She waives the jar at him, “First blood meaning menarche,” seeing him still looking blank,“ she continues sounding annoyed, “Meaning first menstruation… as in this was a child.”

“What?!” Nick says.

She shoots Nick a quelling look and glances back down at the vial. She hands it to him. “Hang on to this. Don’t drop it.” She turns around and walks off

Nick, feeling perturbed, grabs it and stares. He thinks about what this means, and marches back up to the Fuchsbau. Something about Nick’s expression must serve as a warning because this time he easily drops the information. Nick almost wishes he had resisted.

Nick leaves him cuffed to the pole and follows the path that she took to the back of the shop. He finds that it opens to a large workroom with an island and shelving units. Boxes are piled high everywhere. A shaft of light pierces the space and he realizes that the shop must be a split-level because shafts of light pierce what looks like painted up windows. A shift from the corner of his eye catches his attention and he sees her standing at the edge of one of the windows. She has her phone out, the dark rectangle held braced against her chin, her right elbow resting against the left arm crossed in front of her body. The phone lights up and she flips the screen to read it and texts something back. Her whole posture is tense, frustrated.

He shifts and she turns to look right at him, not at all surprised. Her phone goes off again and she flips it over to read the screen again, staring for a long moment. Her posture finally relaxes and she stashes the phone, turning to face him. Yet despite some of the tension having been dispersed by whatever conversation she just had, she is still clearly on edge. He finds he doesn’t really recognize the expression on her face, closed off and shut down and not looking like she is going to given an inch. 

He feels a burst of frustration. The temptation to make this into a confrontation is strong just to find out what the hell is going on. At this point, Nick would like nothing more than to demand answers or better yet rip the phone from her hand so he can at least see what the last message said, so he can see who it was from. 

The air crackles between them. 

The thing that makes him hesitate is that so far she has done nothing but help him and provoking this into a confrontation would damage what little bit of a working relationship they have managed to build. But there is only so much he can do with so little information, especially when he can so clearly see the pieces lying before him.

“Adalind, what’s going on?”

She shifts, “I can’t tell you.” She doesn’t exactly look happy about it.

“What do you mean, you can’t tell me? The only reason you know anything about this is because I brought you into this. I thought you were trying to help me- but you- who is this guy you were asking about?” He says, the words coming out angrily. And then because he can’t stop himself he continues, “Is that who you were talking to just now?”

But she shakes her head, backing away. “Don’t press me on this, Nick.”

“You realize how hard that is for me to do.”

She rolls her eyes, “Yes, I realize. Just- give me a couple of days and I will be able to tell you more.”

She didn’t say everything, just _more_. He doesn’t like this at all. And thinking back, he finds himself questioning her motives in coming here. “Are you working for this person?”

She shakes her head but it seems less like a denial and more like she can’t believe she is having this conversation. He frowns at her, “This is an active investigation. Time is limited. People- _kids_ \- are dying. I need you to tell me if you know something that would help.”

She somehow manages to glare and roll her eyes at the same time, looking supremely annoyed. “This particular issue apparently has nothing to do with your investigation right now.”

She goes to move past him and he shifts to block her. She stops, eyes narrowing and he can see her considering her options, the glare kicking up a notch.

“This really isn’t something you want to do,” she warns.

They face off against each other, her unwilling to talk and him unwilling to let up until she does. 

Finally, she sighs and rolls her eyes, “Tomorrow- as in 24 hours from now. If you’re not caught up in this, give me a call and I will tell you more.”

Eyes narrowed, he presses, “Like who you were just talking to?”

She considers before biting out, “Perhaps.”


	10. Chapter 10

She’s flustered and she knows it will show in her voice. She leaves, getting in her car and driving off down the road just to give herself some distance. Her hasty attempt to get answers from Sean via text message in the bowels of that horrid shop had been a huge waste. She still does not have the answers she wants but Sean had seemed confused enough to at least assuage her worry that he might have been involved. But the only way she can know for sure is to actually see him and talk to him. It seems she has some reconnaissance of her own to do. 

She had bungled that last interaction, grown too comfortable in his presence, so that her surprise at the contents of that vial had rendered her momentarily incapable of subterfuge. The situation may be salvageable but she can’t fix it where she is right now. Unfortunately it seems to have brought the Grimm’s attention to the possibility of her having divided loyalties. 

He had not look happy when she left and there was a moment when she thought the tensions between them might have erupted into overt violence. He had eventually let her go for a promise of answers if he gave her a little time. However the truth would make no difference to his case. It was a matter of politics and she doubted those were involved in this particular case. Instead this was about Sean.

She calls him and he sounds understandably confused and annoyed, preoccupied by the same case. She gives him a hint over the phone, which is intriguing enough to get him to want to meet her in person.

She parks at a coffee shop near the station downtown, to work remotely while she waits for him to arrive.

It is perhaps an hour and a half later before he manages to get away. He comes stalking into the coffee shop, long legged and intense. He orders a coffee before sliding in across from her. She saves her file and flicks her computer closed. 

She gets straight to the point, “The Grimm called me about this case with the body parts and the boy found drowned and drained of blood. He was wondering if they were being used for ingredients.”

Sean considers her, “That sample of pure human heart the lab got- that came from you?”

She nods, “It’s from this apothecary shop owned by a Fuchsbau. He has been selling Herzfleisch and at least a dozen other concoctions: Leberdunkel, Gallenblase, Menschblut, Eierstock, Lungenluft, Magentasche , Nierenbecken.”

She watches as his face pinches in and she thinks that perhaps he didn’t know about this. He says, “I get the point.”

She looks at him and only see impatience, no tension or hesitation, “He was also selling Zuerstblut der Gebarmutter.”

He frowns and his fingers, tanned and strong, tap out a rhythm on the table. Seeing her look he answers her unspoken question, “I didn’t know about this.”

She watches him tense. A couple walks up next to them and sits in the table a few feet away. He glances over at the new people. 

His voice drops and he switches to German, “I swear I didn’t. I admit I might have been okay in the right circumstances with the rest but not that.” He shakes his head, “Burkhardt thinks they are using runaways, kids. It would explain a lot.”

She nods and resettles, letting out some of the tension she had been carrying in her shoulders. His gaze flickers over her, taking everything in. She’s not sure if he is satisfied with what he finds. 

“He’s been reaching out to you then?”

She shrugs, noncommittal but the situation speaks for itself.

He shifts, “Is there anything else I should know?”

“Talk to Burkhardt, he got a lead from the shopkeeper so it probably won’t be long until he finds them.”

He nods in acknowledge and shifts to go. She asks, “What do you want with Burkhardt?”

He glances back at her, eyes sharp, and says, “Gain his trust; I want him as an ally.” It is not exactly an answer and she finds this more annoying than she would like to admit.

***

Nick leaves the shop shortly after Adalind. He is able to trace the Fuchsbau’s contact’s number back to a station in the woods where human organs are laid out to desiccate before being made into powder and packaged. He looks around and thinks about that shelf in the shop with all the neatly labeled little bottles, full of powder and wonders how many more places this place supplies. 

This lead blows the case open but it is still hours before they can find the surgical site. He feels like he is running hot, pushing and pushing, right on the edge of where he draws the line. Eventually though it pays off and they find the kids, the girl already on the table. They had arrived not a moment too soon.

He runs out looking for the surgeon, at least until she gets the drop on him out in the woods. They fight and grapple until the Geier looses her footing and flails backwards into the flames. At the last second, he reaches for her, willing to save her even now, but it turns out to be an effort that only gets his arm slashed by her fearsome claws.

There is a space after the Geier is swallowed by flames where the roar of he inferno in front of him consumes the entirety of his attention. The heat is intense and for a moment the only thing he can feel is the pulse of his heart beating in his fingertips as his eyes remain riveted on the dance and snap of the flames.

But seeing nothing more, he finally steps back and goes to turn away when a flicker of motion out of the corner of his eye catches his attention.

The figure is dressed all in black, slender and of average height, female. Her hair catches the light, blonde and gleaming. He cannot see her face.

Adalind.

Her stance shifts. She says, “You still tried to save her?” 

He stares and wonders how long she had been there. Apparently long enough. Conscious of the flames at his back and the circumstances of their last encounter he hesitates and then finally settles on saying, “What are you doing here?”

He stalks towards her and she turns so he can finally see her face. Her mouth is pursed and a faint frown mars her brow. She shoots him a look that if anything looks annoyed and perplexed. She doesn’t answer.

She must have followed him here but he doesn’t know how she knew where he was. And he wonders for how long she had been watching and what she would have done if things had gone differently. 

The flames roar up again and when he glances back over he sees that she has already started to move away.

“Hey! Where do you think you are going?” he asks, catching up with her. 

“Home,” she says terse, looking exasperated and goes to leave again so he grabs a hold of her arm.

She looks down at where he has a hold of her and her expression shifts, becoming calculated. He doesn’t let go, so instead she turns so they are now facing each other and turns her wrist, lacing her hand over his own arm. It resembles the flailing grasp of the Geier as she had disappeared into the flames. It is also the same arm that was sliced open and this gash is now bared under her gaze.

He shifts, his other arm coming up to ward off the blow that never comes but instead her posture remains loose and non-confrontational. She holds his arm and the gashes weep open. She stares at the blood beading there.

He stares at her, completely confused.

Finally she looks back up at him and the space feels oddly close, hushed and tight. She says, “Someone is going to notice this and then what are you going to say?” He stares back, confused why she would even bring this up but then her features flicker and he feels that itch in his jaw that precludes a woge. 

Her Hexenbiest face flickers out and she opens her mouth in a horrible rictus, whispering a word he doesn’t understand. Unnerved but confused by her behavior, he goes to withdraw but she catches hold and she is surprisingly strong. Adalind’s familiar features shimmer back and without missing a beat, she says, “I can heal this for you but you have to hold still.”

He stops. This is familiar and yet not. This is somehow more, but more of the same just one step further. And so she shimmers again and this time he doesn’t withdraw. She slides her hand over his arm and as he watches, the skin knits itself back together forming a scar that fades and fades before disappearing into nothing.

He stares in amazement. When he glances back up he sees her smirking. 

She glances around, “I’ve got to go and you’ve got to stay here. We’re going to have to hash the rest of this out later.”

He glances back down at his arm and it is then he notices the sirens in the distance as more people arrive on the scene. He can hear shouting as more people are rounded up and the scene is secured. There are probably only moments until this area too is overrun. He nods, “I should have this wrapped up in a few hours and then-“

She turns incredulous and says, “Nick, I have to work in the morning.” She gestures to encompass the entire scene, “I’m sure you have more than enough to keep yourself busy until then.” A hint of prissiness enters her tone, “Bother me about the rest of this after work tomorrow.”

Later, there are mounds of paperwork: reports to file, witnesses to question and suspects to book. He is up for most of the night, only going home around 3am to crash for a few hours before he is back again. When he gets back, he reviews his files again, tweaking his own statement before filing it and it is only then that he notices the firm representing the clinic and more significantly the name that has been added to the case just this morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up all the names for the ingredients found in the shop. Here are the translations such as they are:
> 
> Herzfleisch ‘heart flesh’  
> Leberdunkel ‘dark liver’  
> Gallenblase ‘gallbladder’  
> Eierstock ‘ovary’  
> Lungenluft ‘ lung air’  
> Magentasche ‘stomach bag’  
> Nierenbecken ‘ kidney pelvis’  
> Zuerstblut der Gebarmutter ‘first blood of uterus’


	11. Chapter 11

In retrospect, the whole thing should never have happened. 

He was impatient and pissed off and not thinking. He saw her name attached as one of the attorneys working the Geier case, defending them when he knew he had them dead to rights. He would have been pissed at anyone defending them but somehow it made him burn even more to see her name attached. 

And he knew that she owed him some information.

He barges over to her place as soon as he can get away from work. He is full of righteous anger. She answers on the third ring, flinging the door open and settling against the jamb. She takes one look at him, a sweep that takes him in from head to toe, the look assessing, sharp and scathing. She is dressed down, in normal clothes: soft sleep pants, a loose T-shirt with open collar. Her hair is down and soft, no longer quite so immaculate.

He starts in the middle. “You’re defending them?!”

She rolls her eyes, annoyed and looking not in the least bit guilty. She pushes away from the jamb and shoves the door open wide. “Can you keep your voice down? I have neighbors.” She gestures him sharply to come inside. “You might as well come in then.”

It serves to cut his indignation but only for a moment. “I thought you were helping me! So imagine my surprise to see this land on my desk this morning.” He throws down part of the case file, pointing at her name listed among the defending attorneys.

Adalind looks at him and glances down at the line. Her baleful glare continues. She looks at him like he’s missing something. Scathingly, she asks, “How else did you think you were going to figure out the extent of their operation? This could have just been one site of many. Did it even occur to you that there might be value in getting a better look at their organization? That maybe I had my reasons for why I let myself be attached to the case?” She raises her eyebrows.

He considers her and she stares back, like this is the most perfectly obvious and reasonable scenario. His mind flicks back to the criminology classes he had taken in college and the phrase ‘moral flexibility’ comes to mind. He shakes his head, frowning and says, “You’re just going to get yourself more deeply enmeshed in this.”

Now it is her turn to look at him like he’s speaking a foreign language. 

“That’s my call. And this is a part of my job.”

He can’t stop the brief flicker of disgust that flickers over his features, nor can he stop his next words. “Even knowing what they do?”

She crosses her arms, “It’s not like I agree with their methods. Obviously. But this is the best chance to figure out more about their operation.”

He shifts and she continues, “And it’s not like you’ve never been guilty of bending the truth now, huh? I’m betting there are now large sections of your reports that get heavily redacted.”

He shoots her a glare, as this is certainly true and the necessity still a sore spot especially when he had formerly prided himself as being someone who did things by the book. He is still not terribly comfortable with the idea even as he has been forced to acknowledge the exigency.

She stares back but then shifts, eyelids fluttering on what appears to be a barely repressed eye roll. She turns away and heads into the kitchen, leaving him in the living room.

He glances around, still frustrated but feeling a little out of place. He hears her clinking in the kitchen and decides to follow. It is a nice space, long counters with bar stools along the edge, stainless steel and granite all done in shades of white and beige. The area with the coffee pot is the only spot that looks like it gets any use. She has two mugs out on the counter and glances over at him as she starts to pour the carafe.

“How do you take your coffee?”

Part of him wishes to just leave at this point while another recognizes this would be rather abrupt now that he is in her apartment and apparently has misjudged her intentions.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, “Milk, no sugar.”

She nods and fixes one, the color acceptably light and makes the second mug for herself, adding a swirl of honey. She leaves the spoon in hers, swirling it even as she offers him the other mug. He glances down at it and she sees him hesitate. She smirks and deliberately takes a sip of her own coffee. He follows suit.

She walks out past him again into the living room, “Well come on. I’m sure you want to see what is in these files even more than I do.”

Taking another sip, he follows her out. She takes a seat back on the couch and now he notices the papers scattered in small piles all over the table and side of the couch. She shifts some out of the way and hands him a larger stack.

“Here. These are their financial records from the last five years. You’re looking for a regular shifting of funds from the central agency to another site, usually they would be monthly or bimonthly depending on how their payroll is set up.”

She hands him a pen and then continues paging through her own stack. He takes the pen and settles back into the couch. This doesn’t sound too different from the deskwork he does at the station. He gets to work.

A couple of hours later and he thinks maybe they have something. There does appear to be a regular shift of funds, smaller in quantity but regular and closely timed with their main location only this one goes to another site closer to the border with Washington.

They see what they can find out about the site but don’t get very far with the publically available information, eventually deciding to stop. He’ll have to look it again at work tomorrow and see if there is any other additional information he can find out that way.

She settles back again and he takes a final swig of his coffee, deciding he should probably stop now that things are coming to an end for the night. He takes a moment to look around. If he is honest with himself, he is surprised. After the initial confrontation, things had settled quickly and he realizes it is largely because she had refused to rise to the bait when he had at first blown in. Instead they had focused together on a common task and had a productive few hours. She was probably the most relaxed he had ever seen her, dressed in loungewear, clearly comfortable and at home and it had been… straightforward. 

He frowns. But there is one aspect that he cannot completely ignore.

“Adalind- about what you said in the apothecary shop.”

He sees her tense immediately. What hangs between them is that this exchange might have been a peace offering and that they might have just let it be. But he needs to know.

She meets his gaze, tense and unhappy, her mouth a flat line. She shakes her head and glances at the clock. He doesn’t take the hint.

He lets the silence ride out for a moment while he sees her struggle with what to say. 

“He says he’s not involved, that he didn’t know about this operation.”

“And you believe him?”

She tilts her head back and forth, an equivocating gesture that belies a hint of her own uncertainty. “I don’t think he was involved- but he might have been okay with portions of it if he had known.”

Nick considers what she is saying and wonders who this person is that they would be in the kind of position she is implying exists. “Who is he?”

She shakes her head, a firm denial. “The question is what, not who.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is always a hierarchy in the Wesen world and, well, he’s at the top- at least in Portland. He’s a member of the Royal family, a Prince.”

He considers, “And who is this Prince to you?”

She hesitates, and then looking down, starts to speak, “I’ve known him a long time,” she looks away. She shakes her head, almost as though she is trying to shake something off and then continues, “You can say he got his claws into me early and they have been tough to get out.”

“Do you work for him?”

“Sometimes,” she hedges.

“Do you report to him?”

Her eyes narrow, her normally blue eyes appearing dark in the low light. “I have, yes.” This is not quite an answer but in waiting she reveals the rest of what he would want to know without asking: “I don’t tell him everything.” She stops and her gaze flickers over him, “I don’t do whatever he asks.”

The air is warm and still. He considers, thinking. She is revealing more than she has to, he thinks. But it doesn’t stop him from wanting more. Fishing, asks, “You don’t?”

Her voice is soft, “No”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t agree with everything he suggested.”

He stops and her expression tells him that he needs to proceed very carefully. He changes tack, “Does he know that I am here now?”

And at that he can see her eyelids flicker in what he assumes is repressed surprise.

Softly, she says, “No,” and their gazes lock. The light is a buttery yellow and she is haloed by her own golden crown of hair. The apartment is almost unbearably quiet. It is very late.

He thinks back and remembers last night and he thinks about the time before with the toadeater and the weird way she had reacted to the man, as if she had her own reasons for acting as she did. There had been little tells, small slips. There had always been the sense of a something more and he wonders if that situation had resonated for her and if so by how much. Neither of them say anything for a moment. Finally he settles on asking, “Am I going to meet him?”

She shakes her head in a denial, “Not yet.”

Hexenbiests are known to be loyal, he thinks. But it appears she has been wavering and wavering in order to help him. He shifts and decides to change the line of questions circling back, hoping to get just a little more information from her before she completely clams up. He asks, “Why didn’t you? Do what he wanted, I mean.”

Her answer comes after only a short delay, “You are different than I expected.”

Nick shifts again and thinks that this is true on multiple levels. He looks back at her and thinks back about his first impression of her. Almost without his conscious volition, he finds himself say, “So are you. Different I mean.” He looks around, “When we met, I would never have imaged that you would have-. “ He shakes his head, stopping himself. It feels like he is saying too much.

At least until she looks back up at him and he sees something break open in her expression. Then he thinks he has said too little.

But the thing he hasn’t realized is that while he has been so intent on getting her to talk, he has been inching closer and she- she has let him. So when he feels her touch, her hand skimming along his front, he starts and something that feels too much like electricity burns and ignites and runs right through him. His hand flies up startled and hand lands on her neck, skimming upwards in a hold that is not gentle. He is not sure what he is doing, but now he can feel her skin soft and warm under his hand. Her heart is beating at a furious pace, thrumming beneath his thumb in the hollow of her neck. The air feels magnetic between them and for a moment, he forgets everything else.

“Nick,” she says and it sounds like it is pulled from her.

He would later swear that he had meant to push her away, but somehow it doesn’t happen that way. She grabs at him and he pushes back and they end up falling backwards onto the couch. She grabs at his hair, his shirt and they grapple with him trying to pin her while she bucks against him, wrapping her legs around his waist. She arches against him again and somehow he finally gets her still. Her hair is a golden fan across the couch, her arms crossed at the wrist and held in his grasp over her head. They lock gazes and he couldn’t have resisted if he had tried. She exhales and he feels it as the surrender it is and he falls into her, tasting the sweetness of her mouth as it parts beneath him. They kiss like they are fighting, like there’s a race, an ending to be reached. She arches again, rubbing herself against him and he presses down, rolling into a grind. She makes a sound that he swallows down as they twist and strain against each other.

And somehow, finally, finally he thinks of the one he shouldn’t have forgot: Juliette. Juliette. The thought is abrupt and jarring, like a bucket of ice water thrown over him. He freezes, blurting, “Oh my god, I can’t,” and pushes her away, repeating, “I can’t.” 

She tenses, the softness disappearing as she becomes rigid. He scrambles backwards and sees her pull away in turn, looking jarred herself. She turns away, hiding her face. 

He says, “I shouldn’t be here. This was a mistake.”

At that she whips around, growling out, “It’s because of her isn’t it? That redheaded woman.”

Now he is surprised. “What do you know about Juliette?”

“Juliette, is it? Now you mention her. She can’t mean all that much to you if-” but he interrupts her.

“Stop it. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I don’t, do I? Then why are you here?” and she glances down his front, where even now his arousal is unmistakable.

He turns away, running a hand through his hair, attempting to straighten it. He doesn’t know what he was thinking.

Nick shakes his head. He glances back at her but his mind registers nothing. He can’t deal with this anymore. Wide eyed, he turns and leaves, the front door slamming behind him. 

***

He somehow makes it home, although he remains in something like a shocked fog. He doesn’t know what he was thinking, because apparently he hadn’t been thinking. 

The streets are quiet. It had drizzled over the past few hours, leaving a sheen over the roads that is accented by the occasional glow of the streetlights as they swing by overhead. 

The house is dark, the lights mostly out, just the solitary porch light lit and a small lamp left on in the lower level of the house so he can see when he comes in. 

He stares around, sees the framed photographs of the two of them together, smiling and touching and looking happy and relaxed. This has been his life.

This is their life together, in the house that they bought.

They had been planning to-

And here he stops again, shaking his head. He is once more aware of what he has hidden upstairs, of the ring he had bought her now in his sock drawer. Of how even now, Juliette must be in bed blithely unaware of what he-- of what just occurred.

The next morning comes too early.

In the bright light of day, he begins to doubt, well, everything.

Juliette is up already when he wakes. He leaps into the shower and meets her downstairs. 

She is packing her bag by the entranceway, her dark red hair glimmering dully in the gray morning light. She looks up when he comes down the stairs.

She smiles at him and he feels that same reciprocal tug in his chest, only now there is a quick clench that follows. Shame. He ducks into the kitchen where he pours a cup of coffee.

They move around each other and it is like any other morning, only now he feels a wince, a flinch. She asks him how his night went. She assumes he was working late for a case, which while true is not the whole story.

So he does what everyone else does in this scenario and he lies. It burns. He makes it simple and just says he was meeting with a source. He doesn’t give details but then he doesn’t usually. He tries to say as little about it as he can.

He gets his lunch together and makes another coffee for the road. She grazes by him again before she leaves.

Her eyes are large and dark, “I’ll see you for dinner?” she asks and he nods. Juliette runs a finger across his forehead and behind his ear. He smiles slightly but her kindness just makes the guilt burn all the harder.

She leaves and he hunches over the counter, fingers white as he grips the edge.


End file.
